


A Huge Fucking Success 1/1

by netlagd



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Series, post-513
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netlagd/pseuds/netlagd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian and Justin reach a crossroad</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Huge Fucking Success 1/1

A huge fucking success – that was exactly what Justin was. And what Brian had always assured him he would be. 

Oh, it hadn't happened overnight – he'd let himself be lulled into false sense of importance between Lindsay's gushing and the cunty Art Forum critic's praise. No, it had taken longer than his cheerful _family_ had predicted. But, probably no longer than most, and perhaps even faster than others who sought fame and fortune in the city that never sleeps. Besides, Justin was still young – just into his thirties. Shit, he looked like he was in his twenties – some days like he was barely out of college. 

Along the way, Justin had his share of set backs – roommates who left in the dark of night with their share of rent or his new laptop, an unscrupulous agent who tried to locked him into a five year contract churning out crap pseudo-impressionist paintings, unsuccessful group shows, and bad reviews by critics who attributed other artists' work to him.

But Justin had turned it around and moved beyond the youthful blunders of his first few years in New York. If nothing else, Justin Taylor was persistent. He learned from his mistakes – he always had. Slowly, steadily, modest success by modest success, Justin earned a solid reputation, always just shy of center stage.

Justin wasn’t this week’s shining star; but then again, that meant he wasn’t replaced by next week’s shining star. He still collaborated on Rage with Michael; he had started a small consulting and freelance design business that grew acceptably over the years. And as years passed, Justin firmly climbed the ladder of success rung by rung.

Justin worked his way into a rent stabilized building in the East Village, and managed to hold onto his hole-in-the-wall studio when the streets went from urban blight to latest trendy neighborhood. 

Yes, Justin Taylor had built a nice little career for himself. He had everything he needed to pay the bills. So what if his professional life successes didn't spill over into his personal life? Justin may not be exactly thrilled, but he was okay with what he had attained.

Until five hours ago. 

Five hours ago Justin stood at the precipice of major success. Five hours ago the doors opened to his first major solo show at a landmark 57th Street gallery.

Five hours ago Justin Taylor became a huge fucking success.

"I told you so."

Justin turned, and for the first time that evening a genuine smile graced his lips. There _he_ was, Brian Kinney, sipping a glass of champagne and looking entirely at home amongst the Manhattan elite. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it!"

"Miss the debut of the great artiste and his talent?" Brian leaned in and kissed Justin's cheek. Justin felt his skin warm, and a soft blush emanated from the point of contact. "Now show me the talent of the artist, or at least what is gracing the walls."

Justin began to give Brian a brief tour, but the gallery manager swooped in and stole him away. Brian amused himself by completing a circuit of the works on display, nibbling on a few cubes of cheese and draining two more flutes of a good, if domestic, champagne. _Fucking economy._

Brian's eyes followed Justin as the gallery manager whisked him about the room. He watched Justin turn his charm on for the clients and critics. Brian smiled and snagged another flute of champagne from a tray, he silently toasted Justin across the room. _A huge fucking success!_

Age had mellowed Brian. He and Justin had settled into a friendship. Brian made it a point never to miss any of Justin's shows, no matter how small (as many had been the first few years.) 

They had slipped into the comfortable habit of meeting whenever Brian was in town for business or one of Justin's shows. If Justin had a boyfriend at the time, Brian would book into a hotel. If he was between boyfriends, Brian would bunk with Justin at whatever passed for an apartment and a bed. 

As time went on, the boyfriends became fewer and further between, and Brian's visits more frequent. 

Occasionally, Justin would float a balloon.

"I'm thinking about throwing it all in and moving back to Pittsburgh."

Brian's answer would always be the same. "Now Sunshine, your life and career are here in New York. What would you do in the Pitts?"

Of late, Justin was restless. His satisfaction with his life in New York was getting to be less acceptable. As this show approached, Justin found he was reliving those lonely and painful days during his first years in New York; those days when he longed to return to Pittsburgh, his family, and Brian. 

The suffering was becoming unbearable and he could see no way out. Brian didn't really want him. He had just become a convenient fuck whenever Brian was in New York. 

"Ready to head out?"

Justin wasn't sure he was going to make it through this visit.

~*~*~*~*~*~

They managed to flag down a cab which quickly made the trip downtown to Justin's apartment. Brian deftly took the keys from Justin’s hand when he fumbled with the apartment's locked door. Once inside, Brian drew Justin in for a kiss while his hand ran over the four locks, turning the tumblers into place without missing a beat.

Justin allowed himself to be lead into the bedroom where Brian managed to divest him of his clothes before he could protest – he wouldn't have meant it anyway.

_One last time._

Justin abandoned any hope of a conversation and without protest surrendered himself to Brian's lips.

Brian felt the vibrating tension in his lover slip away as he kissed and licked along the sinew of muscle that lined Justin's neck. Starting behind Justin's ear, Brian's tongue wound a path down the pronounced cord beneath the skin. Pausing, he sucked hard, leaving a mark before ending with a playful nip to the shoulder. Brian nuzzled the point where arm and torso met, and lazily trailed over to a tight nipple, capturing it and tugging lightly.

Justin's moans elicited a response reminding Brian to rid himself of his tightening trousers. Fun as the games might be, there was much more serious business that lay ahead. Brian shed himself of his remaining clothes. On the bed Justin stretched, his arms reaching up to grasp a handhold in the head board, his back arching, forcing his jutting cock higher into the air, his legs pushed toward the foot of the bed with pointed toes.

"Brian, Brian…"

Brian needed no further invitation, leaving his clothes pooled at the base of the bed as he crawled up Justin's body to capture Justin's cock in his mouth.

"Hhhhhhmmmmm." Justin's growl of satisfaction could not be mistaken and he arched higher to meet the warmth of Brian's mouth.

Brian grasped the root of Justin's penis as he teased its mushroom head, pointing his tongue and swiping at the sensitive slit. 

Staccato sounds of satisfaction babbled forth from Justin's lips, until Brian reached up with one hand and traced a finger along their red outline. Justin swiped at the finger with his tongue before capturing it and sucking on it greedily.

Brian slowly began to pull Justin back into his mouth and redoubled his efforts. He pulled his other hand from Justin's lips and moved it to play along the base of the shaft, rolling the balls in his palm, weighing them, then lightly brushing fingertips along the sensitive skin behind, trailing down to tight, puckered skin of Justin's hole. Brian swallowed Justin fully as the wetted fingertip breached Justin's opening.

Justin's pelvis raised, and his hips pushed upward causing Brian's nose to bury in the soft nest of hair that surrounded his cock. Justin's ass cheeks clenched, temporarily barring Brian's progress, before relaxing and allowing Brian's finger to bury deep. A second, then third finger joined the first. Brian could feel his lover loosen, then begin a clench and release rhythm.

Justin vocally protested when Brian abandoned his cock to grab a condom and some lube from the bedside table. However, the steady cadence of Brian's fingers as they stroked and moved, quickly had Justin's objections dissolving into sexy grunts and moans of pleasure. With a minimum of fuss, Brian donned the condom and prepared Justin for what lay ahead.

A quick indrawn breath, accompanied by "that's fucking cold!" made Brian chuckle as he spread the gelatinous lube along Justin's crack and around the puckered skin. The fingers still inside quickly slickened as the lube made its way along each digit – their movement gliding over internal skin and muscle. Brian tapped along the sensitive bundle of nerves and Justin's feet dug into the mattress and his ass raised off the bed.

"Quit teasing and Fuck Me!"

"Your wish is my command." Removing his fingers, Brian smiled as he slipped into the warmth. _Ahhhhhh, Justin._

When he was buried balls deep, Brian allowed himself stop and enjoy the tightness of the one man who captured his cock and his heart. There was no other one who could compare with the satisfaction he felt when he was with Justin. _Mmmmm, just Justin._

Brian allowed a rumbling grumble of satisfaction to well up from his sternum and escape his lips.

Justin nudge him. "You aren't falling asleep are you…" he paused a beat before adding, "… old man?"

Brian chuckled and withdrew slightly before thrusting deep.

"No, you're definitely not asleep."

"Definitely not an old man either!" Brian countered as he pulled back and thrust again and again. 

Justin reveled in the thrust and parry. _Definitely no senior citizen here._

Justin pulled Brian down so their lips could meet, and wrapped his strong thighs around Brian's hips to keep the thrusts deep and steady. Their bodies began to glisten as sweat broke the surface of their skin. 

Justin's moans urged Brian on. He reached between their bodies to grasp Justin's cock and jerk it in time with his thrusts. Brian could feel his balls tightening and redoubled his efforts to make Justin come before he slipped past the point of no return.

Justin enjoyed what little control he had over Brian, before passing over the edge. "Grrrrrmmmmm." Sated, satisfied noises erupted from Justin's mouth as pearly strings of come burst forth coating both his and Brian's chest.

The resulting clenching and pressure on the part of Brian buried deep within Justin, pushed him over the edge and they both felt the warm pulses as the condom filled with Brian's answering orgasm.

Brian collapsed and tucked his face into Justin's neck. He didn't want to move. Brian shifted only the space necessary to disengage and rid himself of the condom, before resuming his position and covering Justin's body with his.

"Fuck, I love you." Brian shifted slightly and drifted off to sleep.

Justin allowed his fingers to loosely thread through Brian's damp chestnut hair. He stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes hoping to tamp the tide of tears that threaten to spill down his cheeks, wishing he could sleep as easily as the man in his arms. _How the fuck am I going to end this?_

~*~*~*~*~*~

Brian was right. Justin was a huge, fucking success. The opening had run late, over two-thirds of the exhibited paintings had sold, there were several serious inquiries regarding commissions and the write-up in the paper praised Justin's art for its passion and exquisite beauty.

As they sat eating breakfast on Justin's tiny terrace, Brian read the review from the Sunday New York Times Arts & Leisure section.

"Bullshit! You fed the critic that line!"

"No, he came up with it entirely on his own."

"You're so full of shit! You've been in advertising too long to even recognize it for what it is." Justin laughed and bit into his bagel.

Brian smirked over his latte and continued to read the paper.

It was peaceful and pleasant – sitting on the postage stamp sized terrace on a fine spring Sunday in New York. Justin once again wished that every morning could be like this. He heaved a sigh – he may as well get on with it.

"Brian?"

"Hmmm?" The man in question glanced up absently before returning to the Week in Review.

"Uh, how long are you in town for?" _Chicken Shit!_

Brian put the paper down and looked at Justin. "Thursday, why?"

"I'm thinking, maybe you should get a hotel room."

Brian's brows raised a bit, but otherwise he schooled himself to relax and stay calm. "I thought that you and Oliver had called it quits – is he back in the picture?"

"Alistair," Justin corrected with a smiling laugh. "No, he's history, and has been for over eight months."

"Someone new? I don't remember you mentioning…"

"No!" Justin rushed in, then reminded himself to calm down, take out the emotion. "No one new." The last thing he needed was his love life, or lack thereof, dissected by Brian Kinney.

"Then I fail to see the need for a hotel room." Brian picked up the paper, masking his face from Justin's view, and began to read again. Inside, Brian felt himself falling apart. _Fuck!_ He'd waited too long. He kept telling himself he'd give Justin his time. Let him make his way, realize his potential, reap the rewards of his success. And now that the twat had finally reached the pinnacle, he was getting dumped. _Well, fuck that!_

_Fuck!_ Justin absently scratched his head, thankful that the paper provided a minimal barrier. _Fuck!_ This wasn't at all going to plan. He tried again. "Brian, you can't stay here."

"Why not? I always stay with you, unless you have one of your boys in residence. You just told me you'd ditched Oliver and there was no one new on the horizon."

"I can't see you any more!" Justin shouted it out – then clamped a hand over his mouth. Justin could feel the hysteria rising and his stomach began to churn. _Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!_

"What the fuck? Why not?" Brian snapped the paper shut.

"I can't go on like this. Being your artist in residence any time you have business in New York. It's destructive. I can't form any long-term committed relationships – you're always there in the background. Hell, the foreground. You take over my life, my thoughts, my being. I can't take it anymore, being your convenient fuck, hanging on for whatever crumbs you deign to give to me."

Brian stood up, the palms of his hands rubbing his eyes as his long fingers carded through his auburn hair glinting with gold and silver. "Christ! You're in a committed relationship. **_We're_** in a committed relationship. What the fuck do you think we've been doing all these years? And now you decide this?! After I spend fifteen years waiting patiently as you made your way, putting up with your little liaisons, supporting you…"

"Supporting me?! I pay my bills, I pay my way, I've never taken a penny from you!" Justin jumped up from his chair, corralled in the tiny space between the balcony railing and Brian.

"We'll just conveniently forget about PIFA…"

"I paid you back!"

"Yes," Brian sighed wearily. "You did… with interest. But fucking hell, Sunshine, there's more than one type of support. What the fuck do you think I've been doing all these years?"

That stopped Justin dead in his tracks. He'd never really thought…

"Well, you can just forget whatever grand plans you've dreamed up, I'm not going anywhere!" Brian sat down and snapped open his paper.

"Except back to Pittsburgh." The response from Justin was quiet, but bitter.

"Shit." Brian threw his paper down on the table and grabbed Justin's arm, pulling the recalcitrant younger man to his lap, folding his arms around him and hugging him to his chest. Softly, quietly, and without recrimination he voiced his deep held truth. "Don't you know I die a little each time I leave you?"

Justin pulled back, tears staining his cheeks. "Then why wouldn't you let me come home? Why do you tell me to stay here?"

"Justin, you have to make it on your own – and you have. I couldn't let you come back to Pittsburgh without achieving all you could. You'd have spent the rest of your life wondering what if – what if I hadn't quit? What if I had just stuck it out a few more months? A few more years? Eventually you would come to hate me – I'd be the man who held you back, the man you sacrificed your life and talent for. And for what? To be my kept boy?"

"I'm no one's kept boy."

"You're damned right you're not!" Brian's hands captured the sides of Justin's head as he leaned in to kiss him. "You're your own man – and last night you proved it to the world."

"At least the art world," Justin replied with a smirk.

"So now that you are a huge, fucking success, what are you going to do?"

_Well, I'm sure as hell not going to Disney World!_

~*~*~*~*~*~

Brian packed his suitcase, leaving out only the suit and clothes that he would need in the morning. He'd felt like he'd been walking on eggshells all week after Sunday's drama. He and Justin seemed to have settled into some sort of awkward truce, that allowed them to companionably share Justin's apartment and bed, but Brian was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Right on cue, Justin appeared and leaned on the doorframe. "All packed?"

"Nearly – just a couple of things in the morning."

"When will you be back?"

"A couple of weeks, I have a series of meetings and conference to attend. I can have my assistant forward you the dates. You know, you do have access to my calendar."

"I know, I just don't feel comfortable…" he let it trail off. _What sort of inane conversation is this?_

Brian frowned a little bit. "I wouldn't have given you access if I didn't want you to have it." He wished Justin would be more involved in his life. He actually had hopes that the blow up on Sunday would mark a new chapter in their lives, instead it seemed that they were as far apart as ever. He sat on the bed, hands clasped together as they loosely hung between his spread legs. "Did you really mean what you said on Sunday? Do you really want me out of your life?"

_What the fuck?!_ "Did you mean what you said?" Justin countered, not answering Brian's question. He was thoroughly confused.

Brian stood up and paced the short length of the room. "Fuck! You’re a piece of work!" the fingers of both hands carded through his hair, "I'm trying to do the right thing here. I'm trying to give you what you want." Brian looked at Justin; really looked at him. "What do you want?" 

Justin watched Brian as sat back down on the bed, his hazel eyes pinning him to the door jam. "I want to be with you. I want to know that you want me in your life, that you need me in your life. I don't want to have to wait for you to come to New York to see you. I want to go to bed with you, in the same bed, and be there with you every morning when you get up."

Brian snorted, "like you ever get up in morning when I do!"

Justin smiled and relented, "well, I can sleep in."

Brian smiled. "And that's all you want?"

Justin pushed off the doorframe with his shoulder and crossed to where Brian sat on the bed. "Well, it wouldn't hurt for you to say you love me every once in a while."

Brian grabbed Justin's hands. "Do you think you can stand living in a backwater town like Pittsburgh now that you're a huge fucking success in New York City?"

"If I can be a huge fucking success in New York City, I'm pretty sure I can be a huge fucking success in Pittsburgh."

Brian nodded. "Probably."

"So?"

Brian raised his eyebrows in question.

Justin cuffed him in the arm. "Tell me!"

"I’m telling you."

"Telling me what?"

Brian stood and took Justin's head in his hands. His eyes gazed into deep blue.   
"I’m telling you. I _want_ you. I _need_ you. Whether we're in the Pitts, the Big Apple or Outer Bumfuck, Utah, I want you with me. I need you with me."

"Then I can come home?"

"Fuck, yeah, if that's what you want."

"It's what I want."

Brian walked away and Justin panicked for an instant. Brian reached into the inside pocket of his suit we was to wear in the morning and extracted a piece of paper. "Then I guess we'll be using this." He handed it to Justin.

Justin scanned the sheet of paper, the corners of his lips tugging into a smile. "You shit!"

"Is that any way to speak to your better half?"

"Better half?"

"Of course, now that you are a huge fucking success, I'll expect you to make an honest man of me. In fact, perhaps I'll retire and let you keep me. Mind you, you will have to keep me in the style that I am accustomed to."

Justin snorted, "More like the labels you're accustomed to – Gucci, Prada, Armani. Good thing well be consolidating our households…"

Brian looped his arms loosely around Justin, "Sunshine, whatever would I do without you?"


End file.
